The Splintered Illusion
by The Spirit Of Flight
Summary: He wanted to keep his image pristine as the day it began of being the monster of Whoville, though one child who landed on his mountain by mistake may change everything. AU Grinch x Martha May OC REWRITE OF ORIGINAL FAN FICTION!


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the character's, but one.

A/N: _There is something remarkable about this old fan fiction I had created when fresh out of elementary school, and finally publicized on here that draws my undivided attention. I don't know what it is, but this story is a constant nag at the back of my head. Despite writing a novel, I plan on continuing this fan fiction. Expect short updates, but that is all I can offer since I am busy._

_Warning: This story is more serious than the actual story / movie, and it firmly addresses discrimination, fear, and human rights. If you don't like it, then please leave now. Also, this story is not edited, and I do not have much expertise in writing in third person._

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_**The Splintered Illusion: Prologue**_

**Date:** _November 5__th__, 1889_

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"_Grinch Sighting at the Peak of Mt. Crumpit!"_

Whobris's vigorous powerwalking stuttered upon the exclamation from a street vendor, who was half-hidden behind the crowding pedestrians confronting the man, buying copies. Summer teeth biting into his bottom lip, he looked between the major's office where his boss sat waiting for his morning black coffee and the origin of his interest. What were the consequences of being a minute late if he brought in something that could feed his boss's morbid addiction, especially when it included _someone_ that was a past victim to his bullying as a child?

Seeing it as not an issue that he could not pacify with fumbling words and an appeasing tabloid, he joined the throng while being careful not to jostle the steaming hot coffee in his hand. When the vendor turned towards him, a hand outreached and a yellow-toothed smile to match, he fished out the appropriate amount of change from his trousers pocket. He returned the grin when the change was replaced by today's paper. Giving out a brief but cheerful, _"thanks,"_ in a puff of white smoke, he tucked the newspaper underneath his armpit, and continued on with his original destination. This, much to his luck, was only a few strides away.

Shouldering past pedestrians that flooded the streets in suffocating barriers, a slight push of the elbow from a short-tempered fellow caused the coffee he was so careful about keeping _inside_ its Styrofoam cup to spill over onto his knobby knuckles. Gritting his teeth in pain with an accompanying curse that slipped out with little notice from bystanders, he kneeled quickly to scoop a blend of slush and snow onto his hand, dirtying the skin with mud and water. He had little time to care though as he hastily got up after eradicating the agony of the burn. The ticking away seconds to nine thirty was an echo in his head as he swiftly scooted up the iced-over cement steps leading to the threshold of his work.

As he entered, he spared the jaunty receptionist behind her desk little more than a glance, and even going as far as to ignoring her ridiculing for not wiping his feet on the welcoming mat and leaving snow-covered tracks on the white linoleum floor in his rush to be on time. Nothing irked Augustus more than him arriving late. Despite his earlier nonchalance about this when he decided to buy today's paper, the fear of losing his job outweighed that original emotion. Now, what remained was the panic that his boss was having a bad day, and did not want to deal with his ineptitude.

Pushing aside the heavy wooden door, with a gentle kick to the doorframe for a forewarning to his entrance, he walked in, with no surprise to the lack of Augustus's welcoming as he sat behind his desk. His hand was busied with the task of signing his signature upon a dotted line and reading documents containing important information. Whobris just came up silently, placing the coffee on a clear spot of his boss's cluttered desk, while still holding the paper under his arm. He would hand it to him when his attention was not diverted.

Finally, after a full minute of silence besides the scratching of a pen and stress-full sighs from the one sitting, his presence was acknowledged.

"You were late." Of course that was the first thing to come out of his boss's mouth – it would never be any other way. If for the case, it would be uncharacteristic, as it seemed there was no caring emotion in the burly man before him.

Swallowing thickly, he forced a smile to curve the ends of his lips, despite their continuous twitching's to stay down. "I got preoccupied by something that was happening on the streets."

A raised eyebrow was Augustus's response, as he looked between the congealed coffee stain on his cup and Whobris's hand, which was blistered and flushed a deep shade of red. Clearing his throat, Whobris discreetly folded his hands behind his back, careful for them to avoid any more consideration than they had already.

"I can…_see_ that." Again, no care could be heard in the monotonous tone of his boss's voice. All there was, was disapproval. "But is that any reason to be late?"

It was a trick question, but Whobris had a prepared refute. "That was not it, sir." He licked his dried lips, "it was a vendor selling newspaper that had distracted me." Taking that as his cue to flash the headlines to his boss, he took the morning's paper from its placement to put in Augustus's awaiting hand, which had reached out when he had become aware that he would be receiving something.

As he adjusted the paper to proper reading distance, a grin began to splay across his mouth and a chuckle rose in his throat. "Aw," he said, "so he's still alive after all up there." A glimpse of his bullying nature came through from his next comment, "can't exactly blame the animals for not having the need to eat him. I wouldn't even go near that green, hairy monstrosity either."

Whobris joined in on the laughter, though without any humor behind it. It wasn't that he didn't agree with what his boss said, but he was just too nervous and clueless about what he should be doing next. Should he leave or should he stay to hear out the harsh critiques Augustus had towards the Grinch? The questions made him a jumble of nerves.

"Very good, Whobris," The smile didn't go away as he turned the page to get a full look at the article. "I'll overlook your tardiness in exchange for you bringing in such… _entertaining_ material."

He gave a brief, awkward bow as if he was in the presence of a king. "Thank you, sir. Your generosity is very much appreciated."

"Yes," he hummed as his eyes scanned the news. "However, if this happens again, even with something similar as this, there will be consequences to be delivered. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," he punctuated his _'c'_ as pronounced as he could, even though the accentuation would not make the whole situation better.

"You can leave now," Augustus dismissed with a wave of his hand, while a grimace appeared on his face. "Your presence is unneeded. Just…do paperwork. And remember to pick up my lunch this afternoon at exactly two o' clock."

Whobris nodded, and enthusiastically left with a skip in his step. It looked as if he was just patted on the head by his mother for good grades, with the promise of getting a new toy as a reward. It might as well, as he looked up to the cruel man with as much devotion as a child does towards its parents.

Just as the door closed behind him, Augustus breathed a sigh of relief. He swore his assistant clogged the air with his own porcine, sweating pores that dripped with anxiety. It was disgusting.

Turning the page again after a very interesting quote from the photographer who took the grainy, black and white picture on the front page of the Grinch, he narrowed his eyes at the presented dates on another article. It was something he half dreaded, half delighted in every year ever since he began to officially date his first love, Martha May. The words _"Pumbersella Arrivals,"_ in bubble letters mocked him, reminding him of his inability in getting his beau into agreeing to have a child together, despite not being married or having any close living arrangements. It had always been a dream of his from the first time he was announced to be the next mayor of Whoville that he would pass on his title to a son or daughter. However, his girlfriend did not think it was _"the right time to have a baby, between his work and her still growing out of the teen years."_ He knew it was a lie, but the reason for her saying that was beyond his knowledge.

Closing the newspaper to set it aside, he took a sip of his coffee. Taking into account to remember the date on the article that was displayed for next year's expected arrivals, he chuckled when he imagined finally convincing Martha to have a child with him.

From the fold of the paper, a faint glimpse of the date peaked out from underneath the coverage.

'_December 21__st__, 1990.'_


End file.
